So many people say it is important to feel comfortable in the clothes you wear in recovery. In fact, it can be a form of self-care, making sure you are wearing something that doesn’t accentuate a part of you that you aren’t ready to face yet, or something that doesn’t show off your new rolls and pudges. You might not believe me, but I can feel my slight muffin top. Sometimes when I walk, my butt seems to be going everywhere. My chest is bigger. I have a belly button now…Yeah, I did before, but now my stomach isn’t flat as a slab of cement, and I can see the indentation of the button on my belly, clear as day. My thighs look huge sometimes. It’s hard to feel these changes, and see them, and not relapse. And then, sometimes it’s easy.
Some days I feel like I am growing into my “new” body quite well. I marvel at how much healthier I feel and look. I enjoy not having people stare in concern at how thin I am. I caught my reflection in the mirror at home one day, and paid special attention to my knees, something I have hated for some time now. Yes, I hate my knees. They are scarred, from (you guessed it!) falling when I was a youngster, and skinning them. They also have a habit of turning in a bit. They’re knobby. I hate them. But when I saw my knees in the mirror, I laughed. They looked kind of cute and pudgy, and I think I am starting to like them. Some days I feel like I am getting huge. And then, one day when I was feeling quite average, and like maybe I am at a good weight. I was walking past a mirrored pole in a clothing store and happened to see a slim girl standing beside me. Oh! That was me..? Wow, I sure was skinny. Perspective. Honesty. Reflection.
There was a time in the throes of anorexia when I could hardly wear jeans and a t-shirt. I couldn’t wear a bra, because it rubbed my skin the wrong way. My jeans always felt too tight. My shirts fit me wrong. I don’t think I was at my lowest weight at this point, but I was definitely not in a goof place. I still get little reminders of my discomfort now and then, when I put on jeans and they fit too tight. Or today, when I walked to my car and I could feel my belly rubbing against my shirt. At this point, I think the only way I could wear clothes that were completely comfortable, would be if I wore a nightgown all day long. And it’s not like this is an issue that arises all the time. But it is something that I am struggling currently, feeling comfortable in my own body. Someday, I hope to be at a place where I can look in the mirror and like what I see. I don’t want to be conceited of course, but there is a fine balance…not hating what you see, not being obsessed with your looks. Acceptance.